


a selfish distraction.

by prouveyrac



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-Grey Warden, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouveyrac/pseuds/prouveyrac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before travelling with the Grey Warden, Zevran's life revolved around the Antivan Crows since he was seven and the Antivan Crows only. He was made into a weapon, so he was to kill and kill only. Though, when he begins working as a trio with his two closest -and alluring- friends, things can't stay that simple.</p>
<p>(trigger warnings for: slurs, murder, depiction of violence, mentions of sex, mentions of abuse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The man who was speaking to the prostitutes said that Zevran was worth three sovereigns.

(“That is nearly twice as much as I should be paying for an elf, but with his pretty face and talents, he could be more of use than others.” Hearing this made Zevran’s stomach churn; It was something he heard men say when they entered the brothel.)

Zevran was sitting only a table away from the prostitutes and the man, who had an ugly, red scar over his right eye. He could hear what they were saying clearly; They were doing no job to make a secret of what they were discussing.

Zevran had no clue who this man was. He feared it was a magister from the Tevinter Imperium. He had heard stories of what they did to the elves they bought. Zevran felt sick at the thought.

“How will we know you won’t just kill him once you leave?” The main lady of the brothel, Merida, asked. She looked more inconvenienced than worried, tapping her long nails on the counter.

The man cracked a grin. “You don’t,” he admitted with a shrug. “But do you care?”

“Not about him, no,” Merida drawled. “He’s the son of a Dalish whore-” Zevran felt like she kicked him in the gut. His small hand went into the bag hanging around his shoulder and gently touched the Dalish gloves. His mother’s gloves. “No one truly important. But you said it yourself: he has a pretty face. Could serve him well here.”

“Well, you have two options,” the man said, folding his hands on the table. “You could either let him remain a brat son of a whore here with no use until he’s truly appealing, or you earn three sovereigns and he learns discipline and skills with the Antivan Crows.”

Zevran’s mind blanked at hearing the name- the Antivan Crows. He had never heard of that in his life.

For the first time the entire discussion, Merida took into account what the two other prostitutes sitting with her had to say. Zevran couldn’t hear them; They were all talking in a hushed whisper. They kept looking at him and at the coins stacked on the table.

All he knew was that no one at the table was showing him pity.

“If you do kill him, you didn’t get him from us,” Merida smirked, sliding the coins towards her.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man agreed, standing from his seat. He turned to look at Zevran. He towered over him and Zevran felt his blood run cold.

“Come on, elf,” he ordered. “You don’t belong here anymore.” His voice was harsh and sent chills down Zevran’s back. He then began to walk towards the door and Zevran had to scramble to keep up with his long strides. While doing so, he quickly shifted his bag so that it was hidden under his coat.

Despite the fact that a warm, dense humidity had set itself in Antiva, Zevran’s hands still shook and his legs felt like they would give out from under him as he walked.

“You’re Zevran, correct?” The man asked. Zevran was looking down at the concrete but could feel his eyes on him.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh now speak up, don’t be shy.” Zevran could hear the teasing in his voice. “Now, Zevran, you’re how old?”

He looked up, hoping to answer the man with more assertiveness. However, he looked more menacing and dangerous in the moonlight and Zevran’s words caught in his throat. Finally, he pushed out (at a volume no higher than before), “Seven.”

“Speak _up!_ ” The man was suddenly shouting. “Do you not listen?”

Zevran’s eyes went wide and he said back, practically shouting, “Seven!”

The man’s face then relaxed into a grin. Zevran found the quick transition terrifying. “See how easy it is to follow directions?” he pointed out. “And seven… you were the same age I was.” He then stared down at Zevran. Zevran’s face flushed at the scrutiny. “You’re small for an elf, but hopefully that means you’re faster than the average elf considering it’s less weight to carry.” The man was then silent. Zevran was now intrigued by him… in a terrifying way. It was in the way that a child is drawn to danger, a moth drawn to fire.

“Do you know what the Antivan Crows are?”

Zevran shook his head, worrying his bottom lip.

“It’s a guild of assassins, spies, and thieves. We are well-known throughout Thedas considering we do most of the… dirty work for people who need things done.” He smirked.

Zevran looked back down at the concrete. He was a thief, quick on his feet. And when he grew bored of staying in the brothel, he would venture out and listen in on conversations. No one ever noticed him; no one noticed an elven child. He _could_ be a Crow. But Zevran was no killer. He felt faint at the sight of blood, turned away from the thought of death.

“It’s good that those whores sold you to me,” the man suddenly said. “I’ve seen your skills before. It would have been a shame if they let you rot in a brothel, eventually becoming one of them.”

Zevran furrowed his eyebrows, looking back up at him. “How do you know my skills?” he asked. He hesitated before adding on, “Who _are_ you?”

The man chuckled. “Oh, how rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself. I am Guildmaster Talav of House Arainai. I know of your skills because I lurk. I have seen you before, many times. And I saw how excellent you are at stealing. You don’t make it too obvious, and you don’t run. You just slip back into the shadows, just as a Crow would. You can steal, now lets just hope you can move fast when needed and kill when ordered.”

“And if I can’t?”

Guildmaster Talav grinned. “You die.” Zevran shivered. “It’s all very simple, Zevran: do as you're told or die. If we tell you to steal gold from a noble, you do so. If we tell you to outrun our better trained Crows, you do so. If we tell you to kill a King-”

“I do so,” Zevran murmured, finishing the sentence for him.

“Now you’re catching on!” Talav exclaimed. “You see, right now you’re apart of House Arainai. You will be going through a series of orders and challenges. Whether you survive or not determines whether you will also be a Crow. You are one of eighteen recruited, the last one actually. If you are one of the final two surviving by the end, you are recruited into the Crows. You are at a disadvantage, however.”

Zevran frowned, hating the sound of that. “Why?”

“The ones who were recruited before you have had time to practice any skills they need,” Talav answered. Zevran stayed silent. His heart was racing now (with adrenaline or fear… he didn’t know) and he was sure the Guildmaster could hear it. “The challenges start tomorrow.”

The street they then turned on had a string of apartments on it. “And here we are, the house of the Crows,” the Guildmaster said.

The apartments were crowded with other Crows. The eighteen recruits of House Arainai were divided into two small rooms. Carvings were in the wall, some just tally marks (tallying what, Zevran didn’t know). Others were words that Zevran couldn’t read. He could hear barking, indicating that there was a kennel somewhere.

Talav opened the second door of the Arainai recruits and shoved Zevran in. “Good luck,” he said with a smirk before closing the door behind him.

Upon seeing the eight sets of eyes staring back at him, he decided that it was not adrenalin he was feeling, but pure fear.

How could he have even _begin to think_ that being a Crow, an Arainai recruitment, would be good?

Zevran had to force himself to move from the doorway. The eyes felt like they were burrowing into him and he didn’t want to look like a fool with shaking hands and his face quickly becoming pale. Mats were thrown on the floor, nearly on top of each other. The only free one left was next to a boy, most likely his own age, with dark brown hair. He quickly and quietly made his way to that mat, feeling the eyes on him.

Zevran sat down on the mat, crossing his legs. Uncomfort was quickly filling his veins and he felt as if his skin was crawling.

“And who are _you?_ ”

Zevran’s eyes flew to the boy sitting next to him. He was staring back with narrowed eyes. “Z-Zevran,” he replied, kicking himself mentally for stuttering.

The boy studied him for a moment before nodding. “Taliesen,” he introduced.

Introductions flowed through the room, quiet and muttered. Zevran didn’t remember any of their names. Though, the one child who did not introduce themselves was the one sitting closest to the door. A boy, probably a few years older than Zevran, with an ugly sneer on his face and a mop of blond hair on his head. He was staring at him, making it obvious that he was scrutinizing them. He finally said, “I refuse to talk to knife-ears.”

Immediately, anger surged through Zevran’s veins. Usually, if he was back in the brothel, he would retaliate if he heard someone say something about elves. He would shout and hurl insults that he heard the prostitutes use, and then run away before he could be hit. Though, this time he bit his tongue. The next couple days would be a fight to the death. He couldn’t afford to anger one of the recruits already.

Zevran ignored him and laid down on the mat, resting his hands behind his head.

The night drifted by slowly. Little to no conversation happened in the cramped room. The tension and fear could practically be felt radiating off of the children in the room. Zevran’s heart never stopped racing and he felt like he could never get his breathing to be even. He was sure that the other children noticed.

Zevran ended up being the last one awake. His fear did not recede away from him. In fact, it just grew in his stomach, making his hands shake even more and a nauseating feeling pass over him. He decided that being a Crow, if he even lived, would be terrible. He couldn’t kill, and he didn’t know how fast he can run. All he had is his deft hands and chalante matter.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to scream or cry. He hated the prostitutes for selling him, hated Talav for watching him, hated himself for picking up on thievery in the first place.

He finally took off his coat and was relieved to see that he still had his bag with his mother’s gloves. He knew no one had stolen it, he had kept it well hidden. But he still feared that it would vanish just like everything else from his life before he was recruited. He took the gloves out of the bag, running his fingers along the leather. He felt the inside, the soft fur.

His mother had died giving birth to him. These gloves were the only tie he had to her.

He wished she was still alive. Perhaps if she was, he wouldn’t be here.

Zevran ended up finding a loose floorboard near his mat. He gently, quietly, lifted it up and hid the bag and gloves under it. They were hidden perfectly. No one would know they were there unless they saw Zevran move them himself.

Nightmares plagued his dreams that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first challenge was to steal ten sovereigns from noble families.

The first challenge was to steal ten sovereigns from one of the twelve noble families in Antiva. However, the catch was that only one child could steal from one family. Older Crows would be watching each estate to make sure only one recruit was doing the theft.

Speed, finesse, and cunning were the only things that counted.

The young recruits had an hour to steal the sovereigns and get back to the apartments. Usually, that would seem like a generous amount of time. Though, upon thinking about it, Zevran realized just how far away some of the estates were.

Only twelve children were able to pass this challenge. Six would be killed because they repeated an estate. More could die if they were not back in an hour.

Zevran was thankful that he knew of two nearby estates and short cuts to said estates, but that didn’t do much to sedate the nerves in his stomach.

They were all to be released at the same time from nine different doors; two to each. Zevran was with the boy Taliesen. The Crow that was assigned to their door had a smirk and a condescending look at his face. Zevran and Taliesen were definitely two of the smaller, younger recruits. They were going against kid their own age, of course, but there were others who were nearly teenagers. Others who grew up with the privilege of wealth and lessons of agility and strength.

He couldn’t dwell on in for longer because the door was suddenly pushed open and him and Taliesen were shoved out. They were in the back courtyard of the apartments, fencing on three sides and a stone wall being the fourth.

Talisen went to the fencing. It was the obvious choice considering it led directly to the roads. Though, Zevran knew that there was a shortcut behind that stone wall. He had passed by it multiple times, whether it be when he was escaping from the brothel or using the passway to escape other thefts quickly and unnoticed.

Scaling the wall was easy for Zevran. His tiny hands and feet were able to fit into the crevices and work himself up it. He ignored how the rough stone cut his fingertips and the soles of his feet. He knew they were bleeding, but he couldn’t stop.

At the top of the wall, if he squinted, he could see the Caderou Estate. He smiled to himself before making his way down the wall.

His feet burned running down the roads, constantly transitioning between dirt and gravel. But he did not stop. He was moving faster than he had ever before. It was still very early morning. The only sounds were the birds chirping up above, his feet hitting the ground, and his increasingly labored breathing.

He felt like crying out in joy when the estate finally came into view. Like most estates, it was bordered by four walls. The front one had a gate, and Zevran wasn’t stupid enough to try to use that. He scaled the farthest wall bordering the courtyard, stopping right before he reached the top.

He knew of the Caderou family, or at least of the youngest son. He came to the brothel quite a lot late at night. He would then proceed to get drunk and go through multiple prostitutes (because he had that type of money). And, when people got drunk, they confessed things. Like how someone is supposed to be married but doesn’t want to be “tied down”. Or like the reason they went to the brothel so late is because the guardsmen are off duty from eleven at night to seven in the morning.

Zevran didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it was before seven when he didn’t see any guards at any of the doors.

Zevran saw sleeping mabaris, however. He felt his stomach clench. There were five of them, concealed in a gated area. Though, those gates didn’t look very sturdy. They definitely weren’t strong enough to hold back war dogs. And Zevran knew how harshly mabaris could be used. He had been threatened to have his ears cut off and fed to them enough to know.

He swallowed his fear, quietly crossed over the wall, and slid down. When he hit the ground, he crouched down and mapped out his path. The first door he saw was a set of grand ones, no doubt leading to a main hallway. That would be the most obvious choice, but too risky. He knew a Crow was watching him from somewhere, whether in the shadows of the estate or waiting for sounds from outside. If he was caught, he was dead. Literally.

But then his eyes fell upon a smaller, grey door off to the side. A cellar, perhaps. Hopefully.

That was a risk Zevran would be willing to take.

He found a path clear of twigs and any other obstacles that could alarm anything, human or mabari. He crouched down and went as gracefully as he could, making his way across that path. He was grateful that the mabaris did not stir.

He finally arrived at the door. His breath held, he carefully turned the handle and pushed. He had to bite his lip to stop the sigh of relief when the door not only opened, but opened quietly.

It led to a dark, damp hallway. On either wall there were two doors. No sound of any humans could be heard.

The first three doors Zevran tried held alcohol. Upon arriving at the fourth door, Zevran was ready to give up. Though, to his delight, the fourth room held golden goblets, fine armor, and finally, sovereigns. He grinned upon the sight.

He counted out ten sovereigns. He longed to steal more. He had never seen this much gold, this much wealth, in his life. Though his challenge was ten sovereigns, and the first thing he was taught was to follow directions precisely.

Escaping the estate was a blur. Zevran was ecstatic at completing that part of the challenge. He knew the hour wasn’t up, wasn’t even close to being. He now just had to get back to the apartments.

He didn’t really remember running back. The world around him was a blur, the sovereigns clinking together in his pockets. He knew that no one saw him, and that his thievery had gone much faster than he thought.

He didn’t stop sprinting once he saw the apartments. He didn’t see any other recruits around him. That filled him with fear and excitement. Fear at possibly being one of the last ones; Excitement at being one of the first.

He slammed open the front door of the main apartment building, breathless. Guildmaster Talav along with two other men were in the hallway. They had to have been waiting for the Arainai recruits.

“I-I have the ten sovereigns,” Zevran panted, trying to regain his composure as he collected the sovereigns from his pockets. He walked up to Talav, holding out the coins.

Talav looked down at him, smiling. “All ten and the first one back,” he said. “Impressive, Zevran, very impressive.”

Zevran beamed and let Talav take the sovereigns. He was too excited to even think of complaining about not getting to keep the coins. One of the men besides Talav, who had dark, swirling tattoos framing his face, spoke, “So this is the recruit you bought from that brothel?”

The Guildmaster nodded. At that point, all attention was turned to him. “He is,” he answered, turning to look at the man. “I must say, we underestimated him.” He then looked back at Zevran. “Zevran, this is Eoman Arainai, one of the best trainers of House Arainai.”

Eoman Arainai was quiet, stone faced. Zevran would be lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated by him. Still, he pushed away his fear and nodded to Eoman. “Hello, Sir.”

Eoman nodded to him in greeting. Zevran’s eyes then went to the other man who stood with Guildmaster Talav. He could have been no older than eighteen and looked vaguely familiar with his blond curls and harsh glare…

“And this is one of our best master assassins Radley,” Talav continued on with introductions and gestured to the blond. “His brother is in your set of recruits so… be on your guard.” Talev smirked, cocking his head.

 _Oh._ Zevran thought back to the boy with the wild blond hair, the comment about elves. He already dreaded both of them. Dreaded them and hated the same ugly sneer they both wore.

But considering both had the potential to kill him, he nodded to Radley, who just gave him back a curt nod.

It wasn’t long after that when Taliesen rushed through the door in a similar style to Zevran, panting and scrambling for the gold coins.

“Our first two finishers are two of our youngest recruits,” Talav noted, accepting the coins.

“And an elf,” Radley interjected, though no one besides Zevran paid any attention to his comment.

“We either have a very pathetic group of recruits,” Talav continued. “Or two very promising young boys.”

Zevran smiled at hearing that and caught Taliesen was too.

Only ten out of eighteen children survived that day. From listening in on conversations through doors, Zevran gathered that six children repeated estates, one tried running away, and one wasn’t even killed by the Crows, he was killed by guards.

Radley’s brother, Alden, was the third to return. Zevran and Taliesen listened in silence as Radley scolded his younger brother, saying “How could you let two seven year olds pass you, one being a knife-ear?!”

“I hope Alden doesn’t make it,” Zevran whispered without thinking, staring at the door. He had never wished death upon anyone before, never had to. He was unnerved by how quickly he had begun to.

“Me too,” Taliesen agreed quietly.

When Alden had finally come back into the room, the first thing he said was, “Don’t expect to survive much longer. You two were probably raised criminals. But being a cheat won’t help you kill someone.”

Zevran wanted to say that he was no cheat, wanted to defend himself, but his words caught in his throat. He was suddenly much more intimidated by him, especially now since he knew that his brother was a _master assassin_.

At that time, he didn’t say anything. He had wished that he had, wished that he could of. He felt shameful, embarrassed, when Taliesen defended himself. Alden cursed at him but then laughed at Zevran and made some comment about elves that he didn’t listen to.

After that, the other children started returning. Only two more returned to their room. It was nice having more space, if the fact that children were killed to achieve that was ignored.

The night finally came and Zevran was lying in the darkness on his mat, about to reach for the loose floorboard when he heard a sudden whisper behind him, “Zevran!”

Zevran jumped, looking over to where he _thought_ Taliesen was sleeping, only to find him wide awake and staring at him.

“What?” Zevran whispered back, shifting closer to the other boy.

“We can’t let Alden live.”

Zevran looked over Taliesen to a sleeping Alden, a quiet snore leaving him. He felt his stomach twist into a knot. He didn’t want Alden to live, didn’t want to hear more of his comments about elves and see his sneer anymore. Yet the thought of being the one to kill him felt… wrong. It was wrong and Zevran couldn’t kill people but something felt tempting about it. The thought of proving himself and being able to live was gratifying. The thought of someone’s life being in his own hands was… interesting.

Zevran couldn’t decipher the change in him. He couldn’t kill people, he didn’t even know if he wanted to. Yet he wanted to live. And that want was enough to make Zevran nod in agreement to Taliesen.

The next day was a day without challenges. The Guildmaster was needed for a major job, and a handful of the best Crows were with him.

Zevran was woken up by Taliesen. “Come on,” he whispered, trying not to disturb any of the other recruits around them. “I have an idea.”

He didn’t question what the other was planning to do. Out of all the recruits, Taliesen was the one who Zevran trusted. Zevran wanted to survive, and he wanted Taliesen to survive with him.

Taliesen quietly led him out of the recruits’ room. “We don’t have a challenge today, I was thinking we could train,” he said and led him to the door that opened up to the courtyard.

“Are we allowed?”

“No one said that we couldn’t.” Taliesen shrugged and opened the door.

“Where do you two think you’re going?”

Both Zevran and Taliesen turned to see an elven Crow walking towards them with his arms crossed.

“That person can say we can’t,” Zevran mumbled under his breath.

“We were thinking about training outside since we have no challenges today,” Taliesen told him.

“Train with what? Sticks and dirt?”

Zevran and Taliesen shared a look. “You two need equipment. And I will help you. No one needs you killing each other because you don’t know what you’re doing.” He then opened one of the closets to the side, pulling out a bag (no doubt full of daggers) and vials of different colored liquid with markings on them.

“I thought Crows weren’t supposed to help the recruits,” Zevran pointed out, looking up at the man.

“Crows can give tips and slight adjustments,” the elf explained, hiking the bag over his shoulder. He led them out to the courtyard and said with a lowered voice, “I will not tell you what the next challenges are, because that is forbidden. But myself doing this is also forbidden. So that’s why we are going to a different courtyard and neither of you will utter a word of this to anyone, understood?”

Taliesen and Zevran nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“But, sir-” Taliesen started.

“Atrian,” the elf -Atrian- corrected.

“Atrian,” Taliesen began again. “Why help us if it’s forbidden?”

“The Crows place bets on who will survive the challenges,” Atrian explained. “I refuse to lose money because you two didn’t survive. We might not be able to be out there for long, but anything could help you two survive.”

The fact that Zevran knew people wanted him -and Taliesen- to survive boosted his confidence.

Atrian led the two children to a more secluded courtyard with no windows facing it. There were old targets set up in the overgrown grass. The Crow laid out the daggers and carefully set down the vials. Taliesen instantly went for the daggers, trying to find one of the best quality, but Zevran was drawn to the vials. He took two vials, one with a dark red liquid and another with clear liquid, and sat down on the grass. The vials had markings on them that Zevran squinted at, wishing he could read.

“Taliesen, I assume you have at least some skill with fighting?” Atrian asked.

“My brother would teach me techniques.”

“Good. Then go practice on the targets, whether it be throwing or backstabs or anything. Make sure all of your movements are sharp. If we have time, you will go against me.”

Zevran was still studying the vials, or to be precise: the markings. He heard Atrian approach him.

“I see you found the poisons.”

Zevran nodded. “What do these markings mean?” he asked, presenting the vials to Atrian.

Atrian furrowed his eyebrows at him, frowning. “Can’t you read?”

Zevran blushed, shaking his head.

Atrian sighed, nodding, “Hopefully you’ll learn eventually.” He kneeled down, handing the vial with the red liquid to Zevran. “This one is Concentrated Soldier’s Bane. It causes whoever it’s used on to move slower, get tired more easily.” He then handed the one with clear liquid over. “And this is Quiet Death, the most dangerous poison we have. It will either kill your opponent instantly or make them extremely ill. On the latter case, it takes quite a long time to heal the victim. It’s all a matter of dosage. One drop is the difference between life and death.”

Zevran nodded, observing the vials.

Zevran continued to look through the vials, fascinated by the poisons. Taliesen continued to practice with the daggers. Sometimes Zevran would watch him and see as his throwing skills got more and more precise.

“You can make your own poisons,” Atrian told Zevran. “Though only Crows are taught. Gives you another reason to survive and not make me lose my money.”

Zevran nodded. Having that skill could be useful….

Zevran looked up to see Taliesen throw his dagger through the throat of one of the mock-body opponents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to all who left kudos/feedback!!!
> 
> kudos/feedback is appreciated. my tumblr is archdemoned.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

The next two challenges (speed and lock-picking) passed by and Zevran still lived. Only five recruits remained. Taliesen, Alden, a noble girl, an elven boy, and Zevran. Guildmaster Talav said that the next challenges, however many there be, would truly be about survival and fighting.

Zevran still had never held a dagger, let alone fight with one.

On the morning of the fourth challenge, Zevran was woken up by the door to his room swinging open and slamming against the wall. The loud volume of it was enough to completely shock Zevran (and Taliesen) out of sleep, both shooting upright on their mats. When his vision cleared, he saw Guildmaster Talav standing with a smirking Alden behind him.

“Zevran,” Talav said calmly. “Do you have any possessions with you from your time before being a recruit?”

Zevran furrowed his eyebrows. His thoughts immediately fled to his mother’s Dalish gloves still hidden under the floorboards. “No.” The lie slipped out of him easily.

Talav raised his eyebrows. “ _Really?_ ” he questioned. “Because Alden here says that you have… gloves hidden beneath the floorboards. He claims he saw you last night with them. You know having possessions is forbidden, Zevran.”

Alden approached where he sat, a grin on his face. Zevran was too busy staring at him with his jaw dropped to move or even defend himself. How could he have been so foolish?

Alden practically ripped up the loose floorboard and grabbed the bag. He pulled the gloves out of them and presented them to Talav. “Told you he was hiding them.”

Talav took the gloves, examining them. “Dalish,” he murmured. “I assume they belonged to your whore mother?” Zevran’s blood boiled and he glared at Talav.

Talav then drew a small knife from one of his pockets. “Such nice gloves, it’s a shame they are to be destroyed.”

Zevran then realized what was about to happen; Saw Talav put the point of the knife to the leather. Without thinking, he cried out, “No, those are mine!” and reached out for the gloves. He was able to get a grip on one of the fingers.

It was only when a cold silence passed over the room that Zevran realized he disobeyed an order. The Guildmaster’s eyes flared as he stared down at the elf. Silently, he ripped the gloves away from Zevran and instantly began to cut them up to shreds. Zevran’s hands shook as he watched the only thing left of his mother be destroyed. He tore his eyes away, not wanting to bare watching.

He then saw the shreds dropped to the floor and didn’t even have time to look up before a harsh slap hit his cheek, causing him to stumble to the ground and his face to burn (both out of pain and shame).

“Don’t ever lie or disobey again,” Talav growled. Zevran didn’t look up until the door slammed shut. Alden was laughing and Taliesen was staring at him with wide eyes.

Zevran refused to cry in front of the two of them.

He also refused to let Alden live much longer. He just had to figure out exactly how to kill him.

Zevran’s cheek was already bruising by the time midday and the next challenge came around.

Zevran was unbelievably bitter and bloodlusting.

The remaining five recruits were brought into the back courtyard by Guildmaster Talav and one of his best assassins, an elven woman Alalhen. There they were met with five other Crows standing in a line. “Recruits, line up,” Talav ordered. As they did so, Talav continued on to say, “Today is a true test of survival. We will see if you all can really survive when an enemy is upon you.”

Alalhen walked down the line and handed out daggers to the recruits. Now, Zevran didn’t know much about daggers (or really anything), but he knew that the daggers they were being given weren’t… exactly good ones in terms of quality.

“These Crows will be going after you. Survive. I don’t care how you do it, just survive. If you can survive a Crow attack when you’re just a recruit, that says something,” Talav explained. He then sighed dramatically. “Though, you cannot all survive. Will not, actually. Some of you will die. The challenge is over when two of you are dead.”

After the past couple of days, having Crows sent after him stopped phasing Zevran. His eyes skimmed over the line of Crows in front of him. He stopped at seeing the all too familiar blond curls. Radley, older brother to Alden. Hatred surged in Zevran for the two brothers.

“But recruits, do not kill each other.” Zevran could hear the smirk in Talav’s voice. “There is another day for that.”

Zevran couldn’t kill Alden. But he knew another way to get to him.

“Your challenge begins…”

Zevran tightened his grip on the dagger. _Survive. I don’t care how you do it, just survive._

He thought back to the courtyard with Taliesen and Atrian… how skillfully Taliesen handled the daggers, how he made it look easy.

“ _Now!_ ”

Zevran liked to believe that his hatred is what fueled him to throw the dagger instantly. It was probably also pure stupidity.

It was either luck or the Maker Himself blessing Zevran that caused the dagger to fly at the rate it did. Zevran had never thrown a dagger before, though at that moment he felt as if he was a natural at it. The dagger sliced through the air, throwing even the experienced Crows off guard (though that might have also been their shock at seeing a recruit practically sacrifice himself by throwing his dagger immediately)..

Everyone in the courtyard gasped upon seeing the dagger go through Radley’s throat. Zevran was aiming for his heart, but not everything could go perfectly.

The entire courtyard was frozen, even Guildmaster Talav. The only sound was the wind and Radley collapsing to the ground, the dagger still embedded in his throat.. Blood spewed out of his throat and the corners of his mouth.

Zevran didn’t feel as sick as he thought he would.

Everyone was staring at Zevran. Gradually, however, all attention turned to Guildmaster Talav, who was approaching the quickly dying Radley.

When Radley was officially dead, what broke the silence was not Talav, but was Alden’s scream of “That was my brother!” Zevran saw him lift his own dagger.

“If you move with that dagger anymore, you will be joining your brother very quickly!” Talav shouted, his voice carrying across the entire courtyard harshly. The dagger fell from Alden’s hands.

Talav approached Zevran, staring down at him. “You killed him,” he pointed out. Zevran nodded. “Why?”

“You told us to survive,” Zevran explained. He was a lot calmer… even more apathetic than he thought he would be. “I believed he would have killed me first.”

“I…” For once, Talav was at a loss for words. He had not expected one of his top Crows to be the one killed.

“Guildmaster, if I may,” Alalhan suddenly spoke up. Talav nodded. “I don’t know what you plan to do with the boy, but I don’t think he should be punished. He did what he did to… survive. And it’s obvious he has some sort of skill.”

The Guildmaster nodded. “I… I do believe you’re right,” he finally said with a sigh. “Zevran, go back into the apartments.”

Zevran didn’t question it. As he walked, he looked over his shoulder to see a wide-eyed Taliesen staring at him.

Once he entered the apartments, he was met with two older girls, an elf and a human. “Recruit, what are you doing in here?” the human asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’re supposed to be outside.”

“I was dismissed,” Zevran explained.

“ _Dismissed_ ,” the human girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Valyren, keep him here.” She pushed past Zevran and went out into the courtyard.

It was silent for a few moments between the two elves.

“Dismissed?” Valyren asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zevran nodded. “Yes, I-”

The human then came back in, her eyes wide. “He was dismissed,” she said, bewildered. “He killed Radley.”

Valyren’s jaw dropped. “Shit, Elisa, _really?_ ” she gasped. Elisa nodded. Valyren then stared down at Zevran. “I hated him. How?”

“I just threw the dagger I was given,” Zevran explained, his face flushing at the stares he was getting. “And it… hit him in the throat. I didn’t think it would actually hit him, I’ve never thrown a dagger before.”

“Now that’s luck,” Elisa said. “Come with us.”

Zevran complied. “Why him, though?” Valyren asked. “Did you mean it or did you just throw it and hoped it hit someone?”

Zevran shook his head. “I wanted it to hit him. I hate both him and his brother.”

“Fueled by hatred and luck,” Elisa smirked as they entered the dining room of the apartments. Only four other Crows were there; The others had all been hired for jobs.

“Why is a recruit with you?” was the first thing that any of the other Crows said. Zevran expected that.

“He was dismissed because he killed Radley,” Elisa explained.

As Zevran now expected, the Crows stared at Zevran.

“ _Him?_ ” questioned one of the humans, his eyebrows raised. “An _elven child_ killed Radley?”

“Children are capable of dangerous things,” Valyren said. “ _Especially_ elven ones.”

“He’s lucky the Guildmaster didn’t kill him,” a girl said, obviously scrutinizing Zevran. “Radley was one of the best he had. I mean, we all hated him. But he was a good assassin.”

“Well,” a different man spoke up this time. “Talav probably would have had him killed if it wasn’t for the fact that he obviously has talent, not to mention a pretty face.” An uncomfortable feeling passed through Zevran when he said that, as it always did when someone mentioned his appearance. He didn’t question him… he didn’t want to know what he meant.

“It was all luck,” Elisa said, taking a seat with the other four. Valyren followed her lead, filling up the table. “The kid hasn’t ever used a dagger before. His hatred for Radley and his brother -who is another recruit- worked in his favor.”

Zevran felt awkward and uncomfortable under all the attention. He quickly sat down at one of the closer tables, trying to not stand out so much.

“Well, elf,” the first man who spoke said. “What talents _do_ you have?”

“I’m a thief and a fast runner.” Zevran thanked the Maker that his voice didn’t waver. He had never been surrounded by just Crows; Usually he was with Talav or the other recruits. “And I can identify poisons.”

“Interesting,” the man murmured. “You know, elf, I think you might actually be skilled with handling daggers. Or at least accuracy. I’m not saying you’re gifted, but I feel like saying it was luck underestimates it. If you survive, and keep training, you could even replace Radley.”

“That would be nice,” Zevran said.

“And with poisons,” Valyren suddenly interjected. “It’s a good skill to have. Poisons can… dispose of people much quicker and easier than a dagger.”

The final three recruits were Zevran, Taliesen, and Adlen.

“Today is your final challenge,” Guildmaster Talav said to the three lined up in their rooms. “All I’m telling you is that a chest with our finest daggers is hidden in the apartments. It will be unlocked in half an hour.”

“So our challenge begins in half an hour?” Alden asked.

Talav shook his head. “Your challenge begins once I leave this room.” He smirked. “There are other ways to kill people. However, it always seems like using daggers is the most… pleasing to people, easier to find and use.”

Zevran thought back to the poisons in the closet. His heart skipped a beat at the realization that he could have an advantage.

When the Guildmaster left the room, silence was cast over all of them. They all knew that one of them had the possibility of killing another at this very moment. But it seemed as if there was an unspoken agreement that strangling someone to death, or even snapping their neck, wouldn’t be considered “honorable” with the Crows.

“Hope one of you enjoys your last half hour of living,” Aldan practically growled, leaving the room.

“How are we going to find this chest?” Taliesen asked. For the first time, Zevran saw him looking truly nervous. “It could be anywhere, and he could already be trying to find it!”

“Taliesen, I have a plan,” Zevran said, unable to stop a grin from forming on his his face.

Taliesen furrowed his eyebrows. “What plan?”

“I know a poison that can kill. And I know where it is.” Zevran looked at where the old clock hung. “We’re to be called for breakfast in fifteen minutes. You distract him, and I will take care of the rest.”

Taliesen beamed upon hearing that. “You know, Zev, you’re a lot more smarter and dangerous than I thought you were going to be.”

Zevran shrugged. “Children can be dangerous.”

Taliesen was on lookout as Zevran looked through the closet to find the poison. He praised Andraste when he finally found the vial with the clear liquid. He quickly pocketed it and him and Taliesen headed to breakfast. The only problem now was not looking suspicious and acting like one of them didn’t have poison in his pocket.

For once, Taliesen and Zevran were glad that every other table in the dining room was full so that Alden _had_ to sit with them.

Though, the one problem was, they had no visible distraction. It was too risky just to make Alden look away or over his shoulder. The poison in Zevran’s pocket was feeling heavier with each moment that passed.

Breakfast was in its last couple minutes, which meant the chest was going to be open soon. Zevran and Taliesen were quickly losing hope when an opportunity finally opened up. It was a small one, Alden dropping his fork under the table, though if Zevran and Taliesen wanted to be the ones to survive, Zevran had to take that opportunity.

When Alden reached under the table, Zevran (as quickly and discreetly as he could) took the poison from his pocket and reached across the table. He knew Taliesen purposely kicked the fork further away when Alden cursed at him. Zevran uncapped the vial and, at this point, he didn’t care how much he put in Alden’s glass. He knew people were watching, knew some were even pointing, but no one said anything. After nearly pouring the entire vial, Zevran pulled back and capped the vial, hiding it just as soon as Alden sat up.

People were watching but he didn’t notice. Alden downed the rest of the contents in his glass. He then made a face, as if something tasted off.

Zevran didn’t know why he was so shocked when Alden then fell of his bench, already dead (or at least very close to being dead). Quiet Death is said to be an instant killer.

There was no uproar in the dining room, in fact, it was the exact opposite. The entire room was quiet as Guildmaster Talav approached where Zevran and Taliesen were.

“Poison, clever,” he murmured, bending down to feel for a pulse on Alden. He nodded to himself, standing up. Zevran’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“Fellow Crows,” Talav addressed, turning to everyone in the hall. “Your two newest Crows, Taliesen and Zevran Arainai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated!!! follow my tumblr as archdemoned.tumblr.com :) <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! it would honestly mean the world to me if you left kudos or feedback!
> 
> my tumblr is archdemoned.tumblr.com


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